Useless Knowledge
by Nixa Jane
Summary: Daniel and Jack go on vacation… Jack gets them into trouble. This story has now been beta read. *COMPLETED*
1. Enjoy the Sights

Useless Knowledge  
  
by Layton Colt  
  
Daniel and Jack go on vacation. Jack gets them into trouble.  
  
Author's Notes: I actually got this idea from a challenge Teri posted on Heliopolis, (# 1,897) but my stories never go as I plan them. It is still roughly based on Teri's original idea but I've added some of my own twists to it.  
  
Challenge - What if Daniel is not as naive as he seems? What is he has had more experience with the military, maybe even covert operations, than his teammates know? Submitted by Garnet -  
  
I will never again go on vacation with Daniel Jackson. The man is dangerous. I have long suspected that Daniel might be fearless. He seems to walk into danger with this belief that he is invulnerable. I think that it might have something to do with all the times he's come back from the dead.  
  
I mean that's got to do something to you. To cheat death so many times. Needless to say, Daniel Jackson is not at all the man I first thought him to be.  
  
And now, after this latest misadventure, I'm not even sure he's who I've come to think of him as. Daniel has all these hidden depths. I can't seem to get through them . . . to who he really is. But this trip has really gone a long way towards enlightening me.  
  
It all started when Daniel decided to go to a dig in Mexico, I of course, being the overprotective team leader that I am, didn't want him to go alone.  
  
Daniel wasn't exactly happy with me volunteering to be his travel buddy, but he didn't try to talk me out of it either. Probably realized it'd be futile.  
  
As for the dig, well, we never actually made it there. To be fair, it's probably my fault . . . okay it was my fault but Daniel didn't help matters.  
  
Well . . . alright, Daniel may have very well got us out of life in prison, but still. maybe I should just start from the beginning . . .  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Where are we going again?" I ask for what has to be the third time. I know I'm getting on Daniel's nerves, but hey that's why I'm here.  
  
"Yucatan, Mexico, Jack." He's talking in his 'I'm trying to be patient' voice. "We're going to Merida, Yucatan's capital and from there we'll head to Bell's site."  
  
"Bell?"  
  
"Isabella Molina. The archeologist who asked for my help. Jack, don't you ever listen?"  
  
"Sorry," I mutter as I slid back in my seat. At least I get to sit by the window. I hate aisle seats on planes.  
  
"You didn't have to come," he reminds me irritably. "I didn't ask for you to come along and baby-sit me."  
  
"I know that," I answer defensively. "I've always wanted to go to Yucon."  
  
"Yucatan, Jack. Yucatan."  
  
"Whatever, the point is we both need a vacation. I figured if you went off alone it'd be all work and no play."  
  
Daniel sighs, "It will be all work, Jack. Bell found an entirely new dig site, a whole city of abandoned ruins. It's the find of the century. Hell, it's only a little ways away from Chichen - Itza. Don't you realize how important this is?"  
  
"Ah, no. Not really."  
  
"Then you shouldn't have come. You should have gone fishing with Teal'c or something."  
  
"Teal'c is off world on a mission. And Carter is visiting at her brother's. I just . . . I didn't want to spend my vacation alone." A total lie, of course, but the easiest way to deal with Daniel is to make him feel guilty. And trust me, this is not hard to do.  
  
"Jeez, Jack, I'm sorry. Of course I want you to come. It's just that I'm going to be working a lot and helping Bell with the translations, but I'm sure we'll have time to do something . . ."  
  
See? Look what guilt does to people.  
  
Hours upon hours later we finally reached Merida. And I have to admit the place was beautiful. We got a nice room overlooking the entire city.  
  
"Have you ever been to Merida?" I ask Daniel.  
  
"Ah, yea," he answers distractedly. "On a dig back in college we passed through . . . I didn't get to do much sightseeing though . . ."  
  
Why, oh why, doesn't that surprise me?  
  
"Well, you will this time!" I say. "Come on, let's go exploring."  
  
"Exploring?" Daniel asks. "But I have to review these text books before we reach the site . . ."  
  
Completely ignoring his protests I grab my coat and go to the door, holding it open I look at him questioningly. "Well? Are you coming?"  
  
He lets out a big sigh, and then precedes me through the door.  
  
Not an hour later we're sitting next to a drunk and a mugger in the local lock up.  
  
We didn't do anything wrong, of course. It was one of those blame the tourist things.  
  
"Did you enjoy the sights, Jack?"  
  
Daniel looks so perpetually innocent I'm not sure anyone else would recognize the edge to his words. He's blaming me for this of course.  
  
'And why shouldn't he,' asked the traitorous little voice in my head.  
  
Why shouldn't he indeed. After all it was me who dragged him away from the safety of his books. It was me who picked the seediest bar I could find. And admittedly it was me who started the brawl.  
  
But I couldn't let the guy get away with calling me a tourist . . . even if I was one.  
  
So now here we are. Both of us. No phone call. No lawyers. Just thrown in here. Two crazy guys watching us as though we're supposed to provide entertainment.  
  
Maybe they expect us to break down in despair.  
  
Well, sorry to disappoint but this is a walk in the park. When you've been through what Daniel and I have, prison just loses its fear factor.  
  
"Yea, the sights were great," I finally respond.  
  
"How do you like the view in here?" he asks. "Better than the one from the hotel?"  
  
I look around at the stone walls. No. The view from the hotel room was definitely better.  
  
"Well, the view from the hotel was alright . . . but I don't think you can compete with good ole' stone walls."  
  
Daniel's glaring at me now. He wants me to admit I was wrong. I am. Wrong, that is but I won't admit it. Not yet anyway. I want to see if I can't get us out of this mess first.  
  
Rolling his eyes Daniel turns away from me and looks over towards the sober criminal. He says something to him in Spanish.  
  
I don't know what he said, but I don't like the smile that appeared on the criminal's face as he answered.  
  
"What did you say to him?" I ask Daniel.  
  
"I asked him how long he had been waiting."  
  
"What did he say?" I ask.  
  
"You don't want to know."  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
"That bad."  
  
"You know . . ." I begin. "You could see this as an educational experience. I mean, it's not everyday you get thrown in prison."  
  
"It's not?"  
  
"Good point. I meant prisons on Earth."  
  
"Oh . . . no, that doesn't happen everyday."  
  
Everyday? What, like it's happened to him before? To Daniel? Ha.  
  
"It hasn't ever happened at all," I say knowingly.  
  
". . . right."  
  
Now why doesn't that sound sincere?  
  
"Daniel?"  
  
"Yes, Jack?"  
  
"Have you ever been in prison?" I can't believe I'm even *asking* him this. This is *Daniel*!  
  
"Of course not. Not exactly."  
  
Not exactly! What the hell does that mean?  
  
"How have you not exactly been in prison?" I ask. Daniel's having trouble meeting my eyes and I'm guessing there's a story behind this.  
  
"Shouldn't we be worrying about how we're going to get out of this mess?"  
  
He's trying to change the subject, that much is obvious, but I'm much to weary to call him on it.  
  
"Right," I accede. But before I can come up with some masterful plan to get us out free and clear someone finally comes to see us.  
  
He's a big man, tall not wide. He's got a bushy little mustache, and he doesn't look to be a particularly friendly kind of guy.  
  
"Why Doctor Jackson, we meet again."  
  
We meet again? People actually *say* that?  
  
I turn to Daniel in surprise, waiting for him to introduce us. He's gone completely white. I'm guessing whoever this guy is Daniel isn't happy to see him.  
  
I get the feeling things are just going to get worse from here out.  
  
Next time we get time off, *I* get to pick the vacation spot.  
  
to be continued. . .  
  
I know it's short, but I've got writers block (again). And I thought posting this might help motivate me to get back to work on it. It's just been sitting neglected in my lap top for who knows how long. 


	2. Bad Influence

Useless Knowledge  
  
by Layton Colt  
  
"Ed . . ." I hear Daniel whisper.  
  
Ed? I look back to the burly guy glaring down at us. He doesn't look like an 'Ed'. He looks more like a . . . well he looks like a big ugly guy.  
  
"I told you what I would do to you should you ever return, Dr. Jackson," the man Daniel called 'Ed' sneers.  
  
I thought Daniel didn't get out much the last time he was here?  
  
"Ah, Daniel," I say conversationally. Best not to lose my temper in situations like this. Losing my temper was what always *got* me into situations like this. "Who is this joker?"  
  
Big ugly guy turns his attention to me now and steps closer to the bars. O- kay . . . why don't we change his name to big ugly *smelly* guy.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Colonel Jack O'Neill," I told him. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
"I am Doctor Eduardo Garcia. You are with the United States military?"  
  
I nod and Garcia stiffens. He turns his attention back to Daniel.  
  
"Working with the military again, Dr. Jackson? Tell me, what is it you've come to steal this time?"  
  
This time? Working with the military again? When did he work with the military before?  
  
"Doctor Garcia," Daniel says calmly. "I haven't come to steal anything. Doctor Isabella Molina contacted me and asked me for my help. You can contact her if you'd like."  
  
"What, and allow her to come bail you out? Doctor Jackson, that would not work to my advantage at all. As it is I've got you right where I want you."  
  
"Daniel," I cut in. "What the hell is this guy talking about? I thought you said the last time you were here you were on a college dig?"  
  
"Don't play ignorant with me," Garcia snaps at me. "You know very well what Dr. Jackson was doing the last time he was here. It was the military, after all, that had recruited him."  
  
"Look, I don't know what the hell is going on here, or what you think we've done, but I haven't ever been here before. And Daniel was telling the truth, we just came to assist Doctor Molina with her dig."  
  
"What assistance could a Colonel provide on an archeology dig?"  
  
He had me there.  
  
"I just came along to make sure Daniel didn't run into trouble." And I'm doing so very well at it too.  
  
Garcia smiles, revealing plaque covered teeth. "A likely excuse," he says. "I know what you people are doing. You are here to steal our history from us! I won't allow it. If it were not for Dr. Jackson's rare abilities with languages I would simply have you both quietly disposed of."  
  
Wow-there! Quietly disposed of? I think this guy has read one too many crime fiction novels.  
  
"Doctor Garcia," Daniel says, using that calm voice again. I can tell he's nervous but I'm not sure about what. This guy doesn't scare him, of that I'm sure. Daniel has faced down *gods*. So what was he scared of? "Please just allow us to use a phone, we could--"  
  
"Contact your people and have them come rescue you?" Garcia finishes harshly. "No, I don't think so, Doctor Jackson. I have other plans for you."  
  
"What kind of plans?" I demand.  
  
Garcia ignores me. He keeps his eyes focused on Daniel, and pretends that I don't exist. Just wait until there aren't any bars between us . . . I'll make sure he takes notice then.  
  
"You're going to tell me what you stole from me all those years ago, Doctor Jackson. Or your friend and yourself are going to spend the remainder of your lives in this cell."  
  
Daniel jumps to his feet, "You can't do that!"  
  
Garcia smiles, his oily little smile that I was beginning to hate. "I own this city, Dr. Jackson. I thought you had learned that after our first encounter. I can do whatever I want."  
  
Garcia snaps his fingers and two guards come up behind him, he tells them something in Spanish and then turns and leaves.  
  
"What did he say?" I've got a lot of questions about this whole thing. But first things first. I want to make sure Garcia didn't just order us to be 'quietly disposed of'.  
  
"He ordered the guards to take us to the interrogation room," Daniel tells me. He still looks kind of pale. I'm still trying to figure out what the hell is going on. "And then he told them to use brutal force if we didn't go quietly."  
  
Oh, this is so not good.  
  
The guards open the cell door and pull us out. The drunk and the mugger yell things after us as we we're escorted away. I didn't ask Daniel for a translation. I didn't want to know.  
  
The room we were thrown in use to be painted maroon. I say use to be because all that's left of it is your occasional paint chip clinging valiantly to the stone surface.  
  
I sat down in one of the chairs and look over at Daniel. He averts his eyes.  
  
I look around the room. There are no mirrors for people to be watching us from the other side. I looked under the table, no bugs. The technological kind, I mean. There were plenty of roaches.  
  
"So . . ." I begin. It's all I have to say. Daniel knows what I'm asking. It's up to him whether or not he answers.  
  
You can't force Daniel to tell you things. Not about anything. Something good ole' Ed will be learning very shortly.  
  
"It was a long time ago . . ." Daniel says evasively.  
  
And that tells me absolutely nothing. I want to shout 'what was a long time ago?' but that would be a mistake. Daniel would give me a reproachful look, and I'd never learn anything. So I just sit quietly, prompting him to continue with my eyes.  
  
"I don't think I should say much here," he says, casting a paranoid glance around the small room. "But I wasn't exactly on a college dig last time I was here . . . I mean, I was in college but I was here with the military."  
  
I nod for him to continue. And I try not to show how shocked I am. I mean when I first met the guy, I could have sworn that that was his first time *ever* dealing with the military. To have called him socially inept back then would have been the understatement of the year.  
  
"And Doctor Garcia was telling the truth . . . we did kind of steal something from him."  
  
"What?" I couldn't help it. The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. And there was the reproachful look. Luckily for me, Daniel kept talking despite my interruption.  
  
"Well, it isn't like we didn't have our reasons . . ." he defends himself. And I *still* have no idea what he's talking about. "We did the right thing, Doctor Garcia just couldn't understand that and he got a little . . . upset . . ."  
  
"Right. How upset? What exactly was he it he warned you he'd do if you came back?"  
  
"Loosely translated? He told me he'd cut out my heart and make me eat it, he was exaggerating I'm sure."  
  
Christ. How can he say things like that with all the emotion of someone reading the 'Wall Street Journal'?  
  
I want to keep pressing Daniel for information but Garcia enters the room before I get the chance.  
  
He looks at us with the same kind of disdain I used when examining the roaches moments earlier. I don't think he likes us very much. The feelings mutual.  
  
"I want you to tell me what you took, Dr. Jackson. It would be in your best interest to cooperate."  
  
Daniel turns slowly to face Dr. Garcia. Unlike earlier, he's now completely controlled. Daniel has learned over the years how to put up a good front. "I'm sorry," Daniel says. "But that information is classified, if you'd like, I can help you get in touch with a General Hammond. I'm sure he'd be happy to explain why we can't tell you what you want to know, and why it's extremely stupid to threaten us."  
  
Garcia's eyes narrow. "You will not be leaving until you tell me what I want to know."  
  
"Our friends know where we are, Garcia. They'll be looking for us when we don't contact them. You don't want them to find out you've held us prisoner, they won't be happy,"  
  
I sit back in my seat, content to let Daniel do the talking. He seems to know all the right things to say to press this guy's buttons. I have taught him well.  
  
"What I am doing is perfectly legal, Dr. Jackson, I assure you. You and your associate were involved in a brawl, I can hold you for twenty four hours."  
  
"And what will you do when in twenty four hours you still don't have your answers."  
  
"I will find other ways to . . . persuade you . . ."  
  
Daniel smiled, "Really? Is that legal too?"  
  
Garcia frowns angrily at Daniel, and I was beginning to think I should interfere. Maybe I've taught Daniel a little too well. "All you need to do is answer the question, Dr. Jackson. What did you take from me?"  
  
I can't say I'm not wondering about that myself. But I get the feeling telling *this* guy would not be a good idea.  
  
"This is going to get old real fast, Garcia," Daniel says smartly. "You asking me a question, me telling you to go to hell . . . there has to be a more civilized way to go about this."  
  
Carter was right. Daniel does get more and more like me everyday. And I couldn't be prouder of him.  
  
"Why must you be so difficult, Dr. Jackson? I mean really, I don't remember you being so rude."  
  
Yep, I really am a bad influence on Daniel. He used to be such a sweet boy.  
  
Like I said, I couldn't be prouder.  
  
"You think I'm being rude?" Daniel asks with feigned disbelief. "Garcia, you're the one who is being a neglecting host. Would you believe that since we got here we haven't been offered any refreshments?"  
  
Garcia is just short of having steam come out of his ears. Time to draw the attention away from Daniel.  
  
"Don't you think it's time to just forgive and forgot?" I ask. "I mean this was what, ten years ago? I don't think holding a grudge that long can be healthy."  
  
Garcia's beady little eyes slip in my direction. Yep, definitely got his mind off Daniel. He does not look happy with me.  
  
"You Americans are all so disrespectful," he says in disgust. "You will learn respect. And you," he declares turning to Daniel and pointing at him, "will tell me what I want to know."  
  
Garcia turned around and stormed from the room. We could hear a lock click after he had shut the door.  
  
"So, Daniel," I ask quietly. He looks inquiringly in my direction. "Just what the hell did you take, anyway?"  
  
to be continued . . . 


	3. The Little Guy

Useless Knowledge  
  
by Layton Colt  
  
"I don't think I should say anymore than I already have while we're here, Jack," Daniel tells me. "He could be listening."  
  
"Daniel, I can't help you if I don't know what's going on. I'm flying blind here, I need you to tell me what happened."  
  
"I will, Jack. But not here, it isn't safe," Daniel's voice is sure, he isn't going to budge on this.  
  
I sigh and lean back in the chair, "What can you tell me about this Garcia character, then?"  
  
"Well, he'd follow through with his threat about keeping us locked up here," he tells me. I suspected as much. "But I don't think we have to worry about torture. Ed is squeamish, he faints at the first sight of blood."  
  
I don't think I want to know how Daniel knows that.  
  
"Who is he?" I ask. "How does he have so much power?"  
  
"Ed is a millionaire. He grew up in Boston, but he was born in Mexico. When he returned here, he made quite a few powerful friends by bribing them with money. As for why he hates me so much . . . well, apparently he spent his whole career searching for the fountain of youth. He . . . he kind of blames me for never finding it."  
  
"The fountain of youth?" I repeat. No such thing. Just a myth . . . but then certain Egyptian myths had turned out to be very real.  
  
"I know, it sounds crazy," Daniel says. "But in our lives what doesn't?" he shrugs.  
  
"So he thinks you took this fountain of youth from him?"  
  
"He suspects, but he really doesn't know what it is I took. He never got close enough to find out what it was."  
  
"But you were able to get it?" I ask. "You were here with the military?"  
  
Daniel nods reluctantly, "They came to my school, cornered me after I left class. They said they had something they needed me to do. You see I never published my theories on the origin of the pyramids until I graduated, but there were a few people I had told. Apparently it had gotten back to them."  
  
"Are you saying what you took was. . ." I begin, before leaning forward and mouthed the next word to him, "alien?"  
  
Daniel nods again, "I knew my theories were correct before we ever met, Jack," he tells me. "I just couldn't tell any of you, just like I can't tell any of my old colleagues now."  
  
I lean back in the chair, more than a little stunned. Daniel had found evidence of aliens before he'd even known about the Stargate?  
  
What was it he'd found? Was there some other secret mountain on Earth that I had no knowledge of? Some other secret organization harboring some piece of alien technology?  
  
"It was destroyed, Jack," Daniel says, as though he had known what I was thinking. "They didn't understand it, and they thought it was dangerous so they destroyed it. I tried to stop them . . . but they didn't listen to me. What did I know, anyway, huh? Well, now I know what it was . . ."  
  
What? I'm dying to ask him what it was, what could have caused us this much trouble but I know he won't tell me. He's afraid that Garcia is listening in.  
  
I can't say I'm sure he isn't.  
  
Garcia soon storms back in the room. He looks even angrier than usual. Maybe he was listening in. Maybe he's pissed we didn't give anything away.  
  
He marches over to us and grabs Daniel wrist, I've jumped up in an instant but strong arms from behind me keep me from lunging forward.  
  
Garcia claps one bracelet of a pair of cuffs on Daniel's right wrist, then he takes the other one and puts it on my left.  
  
This isn't good. This so isn't good.  
  
Garcia turns and leaves without a word, and the guards give me and Daniel a push so that we have no choice but to follow him.  
  
We finally reach a doorway, and are quickly ushered through it. Garcia is already there. And there's a man there I don't recognize, but Daniel does.  
  
"Mike!"  
  
"Hey, Daniel," the guy says quietly.  
  
He's a short guy with gray hair that makes him look old. Not like *my* hair, which makes me look distinguished.  
  
"What's going on, Ed?" Daniel asks. "Why is Mike here?"  
  
Garcia smiled widely giving me another view of his nightmarish teeth. They could use this guy to scare kids into brushing their teeth every morning and night.  
  
"Mike's been helping me with a little translation . . ."  
  
"Well, you never were smart enough to figure them out on your own," Daniel interrupts.  
  
I suppress a smirk. I liked Daniel when he was diplomatic and polite. But he's just so much more entertaining this way.  
  
I don't know why Carter and Teal'c keep getting on my back, saying I've corrupted him.  
  
Garcia's eyes narrow again. Even though it actually looks comical, I'm guessing he's not trying to be funny. I suppose it's supposed to be intimidating.  
  
"Mike tells me that there was indeed a fountain of youth in the temple of the sun. Where is it now, Daniel? What did you do with it?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Daniel says smoothly. "There is no such thing as a fountain of youth, of *that* I assure you."  
  
I get the feeling Daniel is telling the truth. Either he's become a really good liar, or they found something else buried there.  
  
"The words do not lie, Daniel," Mike says. "I have gone over the translation. . ."  
  
"You did it wrong," Daniel says assuredly. "You missed something somewhere. The fountain of youth is a myth, besides," he adds slyly, "I think it's a little late for you two, anyway, don't you?"  
  
The expressions on their faces were priceless. I could understand their reactions, they had known Daniel years ago, back when Daniel was a stuttering genius who knew too many words in too many languages to accurately express himself.  
  
They were shocked by how much he had changed, not just his words. I had to admit, I was a little surprised myself. Usually I was the antagonist and Daniel was the one trying to smooth things over.  
  
"I am growing quickly tired of these games, Dr. Jackson," Garcia hisses. "You don't want to get on my bad side."  
  
"This is your good side?" The words come out of Daniel without his even thinking about it. I was impressed. I'd just opened my mouth to say the exact same thing. He beat me to it.  
  
Figures. He was a linguist, after all. He mastered the art of sarcasm in record time. I was a little worried though because it seemed he was getting better at being me than me.  
  
"Dr. Connors," Garcia says to Mike. "Why don't we let these two talk about their options for a moment? Whilst we go get our *equipment*"  
  
Mike nods shortly and the two left, leaving us alone in the office.  
  
The moment the door closed behind them Daniel turns to me, slightly panicked. "We've got to get out of here, *right now*."  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Remember what I said about not worrying about torture?"  
  
"Yea,"  
  
"Worry about it."  
  
Uh, oh.  
  
"Mike is trained at performing torture," Daniel tells me. "Ed is squeamish but Mike would kill his own mother."  
  
The little guy?  
  
Daniel rushed towards a window, pulling me with him via the handcuffs.  
  
"We'll have to go out the window," Daniel tells me.  
  
I nod and help him get it open, we're on the first floor, which is the first thing that's gone right for us all day.  
  
Daniel goes out first, taking my arm with him. I quickly crawl out after him. We come out at the parking lot. Daniel starts off towards the nearest car. It's a BMW. And its plates are personalized. They say Dr Ed. Big ugly guy's car?  
  
"We'll have to hotwire it," Daniel says.  
  
Hotwire it? Who the hell does he think I am? MacGyver?  
  
I don't know *anything* about hotwiring cars. "Daniel," I say patiently. "I don't know how to hotwire a car,"  
  
"Okay," is all he says. He doesn't stop his approach to the shiny silver BMW.  
  
"Did you hear me? We've got to make a run for it,"  
  
As soon as I speak, voices begin to shout behind us. Daniel ran to the passenger side door, he slid the left side of his jacket off of his shoulder but the right side got caught at our cuffs. He wraps the jacket around his hand and breaks the glass on the window.  
  
"We'd never make it on foot," Daniel tells me. While I agree, I really don't see that we have any other choice.  
  
After he opens the door he crawls in and drops down into the driver's seat. I have little choice but to follow him.  
  
"Do you even know what you're doing?" I hiss at him.  
  
He doesn't look up from where he's bent down. He's pulling at the wires under the steering wheel. And it actually looks like he *might* know what he's doing.  
  
Don't tell me he knows how to hotwire cars . . .  
  
The sound of an engine starting up told me enough. Daniel backs up, jerking my arm every time he moved the wheel.  
  
I can hear the shouts getting closer, and the distinct sound of warning shots fired in the air.  
  
Daniel sped out of the police department parking lot and starts heading down the road.  
  
"Daniel,"  
  
"Yes, Jack?"  
  
"Where in the hell did you learn to hotwire cars?"  
  
"Long story."  
  
Right. Seems there's a lot of those lately. "Okay, well can you at least tell me what it was you took from Garcia?"  
  
"It was a sarcophagus, Jack."  
  
A sarcophagus! "An empty one?" I ask.  
  
"Yes, it seemed it belonged to Ra before he was rebelled against and had to flee to Earth. The translation got confused, Jack. It wasn't 'fountain of youth', it was the 'source of youth'. The sarcophagus. Major Kenly, the leader of the mission I was a part of, thought that it was some kind of weapon. At the time I didn't have the evidence to prove it wasn't."  
  
"Why would he think a sarcophagus was a weapon?" I ask. All the questions raised by this new information and *that's* what I want to know.  
  
"Well, one of his men was injured when they tried to move it. It was probably some fail safe mechanism to keep it from being stolen," he's talking to me calmly and explaining things to me clearly.  
  
Despite the fact that we're going eighty down a narrow street in a stolen vehicle, Daniel really will talk about Egyptian stuff no matter where he is or how dire the situation.  
  
"The guy was alright, he just got a slight shock." Daniel pauses for a moment. "Yea, okay. It was a little more than a slight shock. But he lived, and I'm sure his hair grew back. I mean, we had a piece of alien technology in our possession, and he destroyed it just because he didn't understand it! Do you realize all we could have done if it hadn't been destroyed? We might have a cure for cancer by now . . ."  
  
"Daniel," I say sympathetically. Sometimes you have to remind Daniel not to dwell on the past. Especially at times like this when the future was so uncertain.  
  
"Right, doesn't matter now, does it?" he says softly.  
  
"No, right now, I think we should worry about being fugitives."  
  
"Fugitives?" he repeats. "No, we're running for our lives, Jack. We haven't done anything wrong, Garcia was going to kill us."  
  
"I know that, you know that, but when it comes down to it, who do you think these people will believe? Us or the good Doctor Garcia?"  
  
Daniel sighs and starts to slow down to make us look less conspicuous. Not easy to do in a brand new BMW.  
  
"They'll believe him," Daniel agrees. "So what do we do, Jack? Where should we go?"  
  
I lift my free hand and run it through my hair.  
  
I have no idea.  
  
to be continued . . .  
  
I know this isn't a good place to stop, but this part was getting to long and I was getting too tired.  
  
I am also having a slight conflict about what to do next in this story. I'm not sure about how much detail I should go into about Daniel's covert mission ten years ago. Do you want to know the whole story? Or should I just give the bare facts and focus on what's going on in the present? 


	4. Easy Target

Useless Knowledge  
  
by Layton Colt  
  
"We could go back to the hotel," Daniel suggests. "It will take awhile for Garcia to find out where we're staying, and we need our passports if we're going to get home."  
  
"Yea, but do you really want to walk into a five star hotel handcuffed together?" I ask.  
  
"We could pretend to be holding hands," Daniel tells me easily.  
  
Jesus, I really am responsible for this, aren't I? I have corrupted him.  
  
"We'll go in the back and use the service elevator," I decide.  
  
Daniel nods and pulls into the hotel parking lot *across* from the one we're staying in.  
  
"Ah, Daniel, you're going the wrong way," I tell him.  
  
"Yes, Jack," he says irritably. "I know that, I didn't think we should park a stolen car in *our* hotel parking lot."  
  
"O-kay, putting the BMW in the lot to our hotel is kind of incriminating. I'm sure parking across the street will throw them off the track. No detective will ever be able to decipher our criminal genius."  
  
"I didn't want to have to walk that far while attached to you," he tells me without missing a beat. "That is unless you want to have to walk four or five blocks holding my hand?"  
  
Damn. I hate it when he starts to beat me at my own game.  
  
"I didn't think so," he continues, "and we're stuck with these cuffs until we can find something to get them off with,"  
  
"Yea," I agree. "Like a large pair of pliers."  
  
"Or a set of lock picks would be nice," Daniel adds.  
  
"Right, but it's been a long time since I've used lock picks. I'm kind of out of practice."  
  
"That's okay, I can do it."  
  
Wait, wait, wait, back up. "Excuse me?" I ask as he slides out of the car. He pulls my arm with him and I have to move into the driver's seat to get out.  
  
I'm getting too old for stuff like this.  
  
"I said I can do it, although I don't think it really makes a difference. It's not like we're just going to happen upon a set of lock picks. We'd be more likely to find a pair of pliers."  
  
"Are you telling me you know how to use lock picks?"  
  
This trip just gets weirder and weirder. And this is coming from someone who has gone on missions to other planets and fought aliens without being fazed.  
  
Daniel is bunching his jacket up to hide the cuffs as he answers. "Yes, a little. I'm not as good as you are with them, I'm sure."  
  
"Where did you learn to use lock picks?"  
  
I have to ask. This guy is supposed to be an archeologist. Archeologists are supposed to be dull. Granted this particular archeologist has been in more hairy situations than Indiana Jones. But still . . . lock picks?  
  
"It's a long--"  
  
"Story," I cut him off. "You know you're going to have to tell me this story one of these days."  
  
He winces. He knows. "But not now," he says. "We've got more important things to worry about."  
  
Right the psychotic madmen chasing us. It's strange to be in this kind of situation on our own planet. Things like this just aren't supposed to happen on Earth.  
  
I mean, no one can have this much bad luck.  
  
I cast a sideways glance at Daniel. Well, maybe not nobody.  
  
Daniel did have a way of finding trouble. And trouble had a way of finding Daniel.  
  
We quickly entered the back doors to the hotel, and ignoring the red sign pronouncing the elevator for employees only, we headed up to our room.  
  
Daniel pulls the key card from his pocket and quickly slides it through the gold lock.  
  
The stupid little light continues to blink red.  
  
"Daniel," I say patiently. Well, patient for me anyways.  
  
"Just a minute," he says. He slides it through again, and again nothing happens.  
  
I grab the card and run it through. It clicks and the light turns green. I push through the door.  
  
"No way can he use lock picks," I mutter. "He can't even figure out a damn key card."  
  
Daniel lets out an exaggerated sigh. He likes to play the martyr and pretend he's extremely patient for putting up with me and all of my sarcastic remarks.  
  
I guess he doesn't realize that I have to put up with him. Which is worse. Much worse. I have to alternately deal with four hour lectures on things I don't understand and callow asides.  
  
We quickly start to get our bags together. Not easy when you're handcuffed together. He tries to go one way, and me another. It is kind of like a physical manifestation of the basis for our entire relationship.  
  
Did I just think that?  
  
Wow. I guess this influence thing works both ways.  
  
I feel a tug on my left wrist and look up to see Daniel trying to make his way across the room.  
  
"Jack," he says irritated. "We have to get our passports, they're over there on the coffee table."  
  
I sigh and set down my suitcase. Just as we start towards the table someone begins to pound on the door.  
  
"Dr. Jackson!" an all too familiar voice yells through the door. "I know you're in there."  
  
This is so not good.  
  
"Use the key," I hear Garcia's muffled voice order.  
  
I don't waste anymore time. I grab Daniel by the wrist and pull him back to the bedroom. We both dive under the -small- twin size bed just as the door opens.  
  
A pair of expensive black boots appear in our line of sight. Garcia. Beside him is a pair of brown tassel loafers. Mike.  
  
I see Garcia bend down over the coffee table, "Their passports," he says. "They won't get far without these."  
  
Hey, I resent that. We're at least five feet away. At least.  
  
Now they are going through our things. I really, really don't like these guys.  
  
If I wasn't handcuffed right now, Garcia would be a dead man. As it is, there's no way I'll risk Daniel getting hurt.  
  
Admittedly he seems to know a lot more about these things than I thought. But, honestly, the kid couldn't even open the hotel door using a key card, I'm not going to involve him in close combat.  
  
"Their things are still here, as well," Mike tells Garcia. "It doesn't look like they even had a chance to unpack."  
  
I hear a weird kind of strangled noise and turn to look at Daniel. His face is all scrunched up.  
  
It takes me about a second to realize why.  
  
There's tons of dust under here. And Daniel has allergies.  
  
I quickly and silently wrap my hand over his nose and mouth. He *cannot* sneeze right now.  
  
I will not have my exciting and daring career end this way. I'm just too handsome to go out like this.  
  
I hear the sound of a cell phone ringing and Garcia's voice as they answer. "That was the police station," he says. "They found my car across the street."  
  
"Then where's Daniel?" Mike asks.  
  
No sooner had the question left Mike's mouth than Daniel can hold it no longer. He sneezes. Damn it.  
  
Garcia and Mike whirl around. I jump out from under the bed in an instant, Daniel's right behind me.  
  
"Ah, there you are," Garcia says jovially. "We were worried, you both left so abruptly."  
  
"I'm sure you're used to it by now, Ed," Daniel says as he recovers from a sneezing fit. "People are always trying to escape from your company."  
  
Garcia reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small Beretta.  
  
Wow. Hadn't seen that coming. I'd expected him to invite us over for tea and crumpets.  
  
"We'll do it here, Mike," Garcia says. "I didn't want to get blood all over my office anyway."  
  
"That would be inconvenient for someone with blood-injury phobia," Daniel says.  
  
Garcia readjusts his grip on the small pistol and I move slightly more in front of Daniel. He looks just a little bit too trigger happy for me to feel safe. I know Daniel said the guy was squeamish, but it looks like he's reached the end of his rope . . . reached rock bottom . . . gone off the de- - well you get the picture. He's getting desperate.  
  
I could see why, Daniel had been right. He's getting to the point where even if he did get his hands on a fountain of youth or more accurately a sarcophagus, I'm not sure it would do much good.  
  
I don't know if anything could help big ugly guy. Little ugly guy looked like he was out of luck, too.  
  
"I'm tiring of these games, Dr. Jackson," Garcia says.  
  
"So you've said," Daniel says as he pushes in front of me again. "I'd be glad to stop, but you've just got to stop making yourself such an easy target."  
  
That was definitely true, Garcia kept setting himself up for these things. If Daniel wasn't knocking him down after every sentence, I would be.  
  
I hear a familiar click and my eyes fly to the gun held in Garcia's hand. He's pulled back the hammer and moved it in my direction.  
  
"Tell me what you took from me, Dr. Jackson, or I will shoot your Colonel friend."  
  
"You shoot him," Daniel says, "and you'll only be guaranteeing that you won't learn anything from me."  
  
My whole being is itching to lunge forward and disarm the guy, but those damn handcuffs hold me in place.  
  
"We'll see about that," Garcia says as he begins to smile. "You've changed a lot, Daniel, but I still don't believe you would allow your friend to die."  
  
Garcia aims the gun at my leg. Daniel tenses beside me, and I force myself to relax. I've been shot before, I can handle this.  
  
"This is your last chance," Garcia says.  
  
Daniel opens his mouth to say something when we hear a gentle knocking on the door.  
  
"House keeping!" a voice calls.  
  
to be continued . . .  
  
And for all of those wondering, I've figured out what to do about explaining Daniel's mission. I'm going to write a sequel, that way I won't get this story confused with a bunch of explanations. The sequel will be Daniel's point of view. And he will be extremely sarcastic in his thoughts, and polite and shy when he speaks. The reason I'm doing this is because I wouldn't be able to write a first person story without sarcasm. Well . . . I could . . . but what's the fun in that?  
  
Teri suggested I give Jack a small cameo in the story, and I will attempt it, but it will be hard to write in without either Jack or Daniel meeting each other.  
  
The story will be called 'Fountain of Youth' and I've already begun writing it. I think I'll hold off on posting it until after I finish this, though. 


	5. Meet Miss Bell

Useless Knowledge by Layton Colt  
  
House keeping?  
  
We all turn to the door in surprise. It's all the distraction I need. I lunge forward and tackle Garcia.  
  
Daniel gets pulled forward and falls to the ground pulling me with him as I grab the gun from Garcia's hands.  
  
I just start to pull myself and Daniel away from Garcia, all the while aiming the gun at him and Mike, when I hear a loud noise.  
  
Something crashes into the door, pulling it from its hinges. I lose the ability to speak when I see what the something is.  
  
It's a beautiful young woman, tall but thin, probably the same size as Carter. She has long black hair and is wearing this getup that looks like a hand-me-down from Lara Croft.  
  
Mike jumps up and reaches into his jacket, before I can turn the berretta on him the woman reaches behind herself, pulls out a knife, and, taking deliberate aim, launches it at him.  
  
The knife embeds itself in Mike's hand and he cries out. I turn back to the now smiling woman.  
  
Jesus -- maybe she *was* Lara Croft.  
  
"Bell?" Daniel says quietly.  
  
Bell? As in Doctor Isabella Molina? The one we came to help. I look the woman up and down again. Somehow, she's not how I pictured her.  
  
"Hey, Daniel," she smiles. "When you didn't show up this morning I thought you might need some help."  
  
"Daniel," I say calmly.  
  
"Yes, Jack?" he asks, his eyes still fixed on Bell.  
  
"You have weird friends."  
  
"I hang around with you, don't I?" he quips as he rises to his feet.  
  
My left arm gets pulled up by the cuffs so I stand as well, watching Garcia carefully as he remains on the floor where I tackled him. His eyes studiously avoiding looking over at Mike's bleeding wound.  
  
Bell looks down at Garcia as she approaches us. She stops next to Mike, and pries a gun from his bleeding hand. Then she continues towards us without giving the injured man another glance.  
  
"Garcia," she says coldly.  
  
I know that kind of tone. It's the one I save for speaking to Maybourne and the Goa'uld.  
  
"Dr. Molina," Garcia hisses.  
  
He looks mad. So no change with him, then.  
  
"Daniel," Bell says. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from Garcia and come straight to the site?"  
  
Daniel casts me an accusing look. "We just went out for a drink."  
  
Bell gives us both a reproachful look. "All of this because you wanted a drink?"  
  
Daniel gives me another look. I ignore it. I'm not going to take this lady on.  
  
"Sorry," Daniel mutters.  
  
"You will all pay for this!" Garcia yells suddenly. "When I tell the authorities how you held me prisoner!"  
  
Him a prisoner? I look down at the cuffs connecting me to Daniel. Just how does he expect to convince them of that?  
  
"What makes you believe I will allow you to live long enough to tell anyone anything?" Bell asks harshly.  
  
I don't think she's bluffing. Christ. And I thought archeologists were supposed to be dull.  
  
"Maybe I should introduce myself," I interrupt. "I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill . . . of the U.S. Air Force."  
  
Bell finally turns her attention to me. It's as though she's just realizing I'm here. "Isabella Molina," she says.  
  
Apparently she hasn't picked up on the subtext here. Air Force officers cannot be accomplices to *murder*. Not that I particularly care about what happens to Garcia.  
  
"You can't kill him," I say. Apparently subtlety isn't going to cut it.  
  
Isabella turns back to Garcia. "Then perhaps I should just cut out his tongue."  
  
Wow-there. Cut out his tongue?  
  
I give Daniel a sideways glance and he shrugs. Then after a pause he looks up at Bell. "Bell, maybe we should just forget this ever happened," he says.  
  
"I forgot the last time Garcia tried to harm you, Daniel," Bell says coldly. "I will not be so forgiving this time."  
  
"Bell, please, you know you can't just kill them." Daniel looks over at Mike.  
  
The little man looks like he's going into shock. He's just kind of staring at the knife impaled in his hand.  
  
"Mike needs a doctor," Daniel says. "Let's just call the police and get out of here."  
  
Isabella's blue eyes turn in our direction. There is something calculating about them - a kind of coldness that I've seen somewhere before.  
  
I have no doubts that this woman is seriously considering killing these men. I don't want to hurt her, but I can't let that happen.  
  
After a moment of us staring at each other, Bell sighs. "As you wish," she says reluctantly. "But they are not fit to live."  
  
Can't really argue with that, but it isn't our job to play judge, and it certainly isn't our job to play executioner.  
  
"You two need to leave," Bell says. "Take your things and go."  
  
And leave her alone with them -- ah, no.  
  
"Let's call the police first."  
  
She nodded towards our handcuffs. "You really think that's such a good idea?"  
  
Damn. Seems I forgot the minor detail about Danny and I being on the run from the cops. This might not look so good.  
  
Garcia smiles, "I will tell them I went looking for you, and you took me hostage, you will never make it home."  
  
"And you'll never find what you you've been looking for," Daniel says.  
  
I turn to him in surprise. What is he up to?  
  
"What do you say we make a deal, Garcia? I tell you what you want to know, and you tell the police this has all been one big mistake."  
  
It's a good plan. Except for the fact we *can't* tell Garcia what he wants to know.  
  
"You will not tell me," Garcia says. And here I thought the guy was stupid.  
  
"There is no fountain of youth," Daniel says. "You've been searching for a myth." Is that sympathy in his voice? Don't tell me Daniel actually feels *sorry* for this guy. "You've wasted all of those years searching for something to give you immortal life. There's no such thing, Ed. We only get so much time on this world, and you've thrown half of yours away."  
  
Garcia glared at Daniel, "This is what you tell me to get my help?"  
  
"For once in your life," Daniel says, "just do what's right. Let us go and then try to live your life. Stop looking for a way to extend it and enjoy the precious little time that you have."  
  
Now this sounded like the old Daniel. I smile slightly as I listen to his speech. This is the Daniel that cares about everyone. The Daniel that's always there but is a little more hidden by sarcasm than it use to be.  
  
Garcia's whole countenance droops with resignation. "I wouldn't know what to do . . ."  
  
Daniel smiled shyly at him, "Just live. Go out there and do what you love without having some hidden agenda."  
  
Garcia looked up, his eyes meeting Daniel's. "You may both go."  
  
What? My mouth drops open. I can see that Bell is just as shocked as I am. Maybe I should ask Daniel to give up the sarcasm; if he could have just talked some sense into this guy from the beginning he could have saved us all a lot of trouble.  
  
"You would let them go?" Bell said disbelievingly. "If you are lying I will kill you."  
  
Garcia gives Bell a frightened look, "I'm not lying."  
  
"Then you are a fool," a voice behind us rasps.  
  
Mike is standing behind Bell, the bloody knife he has pulled from his hand held awkwardly in front of him.  
  
"Daniel lies! He wants to keep the fountain for himself,"  
  
"That isn't true!" Daniel says quickly. I get the impression, though, that this guy won't see reason.  
  
He charges at Bell with the knife. She disarms him in one quick move, and with a roll of her eyes she throws him to the ground next to Garcia.  
  
"My patience will only last so long," Bell says to Mike. "You do not want to test me."  
  
Mike shrinks back from her.  
  
Garcia grabs his cell phone from the table and I lift the gun and aim it at him. "What are you doing?" I demand.  
  
He holds his hands up in surrender, "I'm just going to call the station and clear this up!" he says, and then as an afterthought, he adds, "And call a doctor for Mike."  
  
I nod my consent but listen carefully as he talks to the person on the other line. He actually stays true to his word. He tells them to drop all charges against us and even gives us the key to the cuffs.  
  
I rub my wrist as the hard metal bracelet is finally removed, Daniel does the same.  
  
The ambulance arrives shortly and they take Mike away. We allow Garcia to leave - minus his gun - and he promises that he would see that Mike got what he deserved. I'm not sure I want to know what that is.  
  
Left in the hotel room with only Daniel and Bell I collapse on one of the beds. This has been some vacation.  
  
"So Daniel," Bell says, "Are you still coming to the dig?"  
  
What? I answer for Daniel, "Nope, sorry, we've got to be going."  
  
"Jack--" he starts to protest but I hold up my hand.  
  
Not that Miss Bell isn't a peach, but I was going home, and no way was Daniel staying here without me. There's no telling what trouble he could find.  
  
"We need to go report this to Hammond," I tell him. Which is true, Hammond will need to know about Garcia and his knowledge -however limited- on the sarcophagus. Even if he did think it was a 'fountain of youth'.  
  
"Right," he concedes. "Sorry, Bell, maybe some other time."  
  
Maybe not.  
  
Bell smiles at Daniel. The same way Hathor smiled at Daniel. "Anytime you want, honey, anytime you want."  
  
How about never? Is never good for you?  
  
Bell takes the bloody knife and puts it back in her holster casually. "Well, I ought to be going then," she says.  
  
Ah, so soon?  
  
Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to her and everything. She might have very well saved our lives . . . but there's something about this woman I don't trust. She's got a past shadier than mine, and that's something I could tell at one quick glance.  
  
Bell leans forward and hugs Daniel. I stick my hands in my pockets, and avert my eyes.  
  
"Goodbye, Daniel," she whispers, and with a sultry smile and her hips swaying she steps over the broken door, and out into the hall.  
  
"So . . . Daniel,"  
  
"Long story, Jack," he says. "It's a very long story."  
  
to be continued . . .  
  
One more part, the epilogue. It will probably be really short, though. All the unanswered questions from this story will be answered in the next story, 'Fountain of Youth', though I'm thinking of changing the title to 'Long Story Short.' 


	6. Long Ride

Useless Knowledge by Layton Colt  
  
Author's Notes: Finished at last! I want to thank my beta, Ali, for doing such a great job at correcting all of my mistakes. So thanks again, Ali, for putting up with all of my misused commas, excessive ellipses use and tense changing. I know it couldn't have been easy.  
  
Also I wanted to say sorry about the formatting problem earlier. I was having trouble uploading it correctly.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
So that was my trip. My *downtime*.  
  
So much for relaxation.  
  
I smile at the cute girl at the counter as I approach. I'm exchanging our return tickets for an earlier flight. Against my better judgment, I left Daniel in the waiting terminal reading one of his books.  
  
The brunette hands me the tickets and I head back. When I return, I'm surprised to see Daniel is where I left him. No psycho pointing a gun at him. No knife held to his throat.  
  
Things were looking up already.  
  
I sit down next to Daniel, and he continues to read his book. He's so enthralled with it I doubt if he would have even noticed if one of the scenarios my mind had created had happened. God forbid anything interrupts his reading.  
  
I get the feeling this is going to be a long flight home.  
  
Our flight number is finally called and I hit Daniel to get his attention. He shoots me an irritated look, but at least he puts the book away.  
  
As we reach our row Daniel sits next to the window and gives me a smug look, "Since this whole thing was actually your fault," he says. "I get to sit by the window."  
  
I couldn't think of a counter argument that wouldn't make me sound like a total ass so I just grumbled and sat down. I *hate* aisle seats. I get my knee bumped by every person headed to the bathroom.  
  
"Next time we go fishing," I say.  
  
"Yea, except Sam and Teal'c will have to come with us."  
  
"Why?" I ask. Not that I mind, but Sam and Teal'c are usually doing other things. They have lives.  
  
"Oh, I called Sam while you were buying the tickets. She said we weren't allowed to go anywhere alone anymore."  
  
I laugh at that, "Good, I could use a couple pairs of extra eyes to watch you."  
  
"She said we weren't allowed to go without them because she wanted to keep an eye on *you*"  
  
Damn.  
  
"She was pretty upset you involved innocent little ole' me in a bar fight."  
  
Innocent? "I don't suppose you told her that you were the one who stole a car and drove it eighty miles an hour in a thirty mile zone?"  
  
"I told her," he says, then he smirks. "She thought it was very resourceful of me,"  
  
Of course she did.  
  
"She thought you were immature."  
  
Of course she did.  
  
Time to change the subject, "So, what's the deal with Isabella Molina?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Daniel asks vaguely.  
  
"She had the eyes of a killer, Daniel," I tell him gently. Though I'm guessing he already knew that.  
  
"She has a past, Jack. All of us do."  
  
Couldn't really argue with that. I had a past myself; it wouldn't be right of me to judge Bell, but I wouldn't trust her, either. And I certainly don't want Daniel going on another dig with her. She's dangerous.  
  
Yep, we're definitely going fishing next time. We'll have pizza, beer, and maybe even some fish. And it will be all of us. The whole team; the way it should be.  
  
"Did we do the right thing?" Daniel asks quietly.  
  
"About what?" I ask. We did a lot.  
  
"About Garcia, I mean he is kind of crazy and we're just letting him off the hook."  
  
Ah, that. I've been thinking about that myself. I have my suspicions that Garcia belongs in a nut house. But Daniel has a way of getting through to people and Garcia had seemed sincere.  
  
"Yea, I think we did," I tell him. I'm not sure, because it was obvious Garcia was a few fries short of a happy meal, but I'm hoping he'll take Daniel's advice - stop obsessing about the future and start to live in the present.  
  
"I think so too," Daniel says with a small smile. "I mean the guys nuts,"  
  
"Oh, yea," I put in.  
  
"But I think he'll be alright."  
  
I smile at Daniel. At least that hadn't changed. At least he still wants everyone to be alright.  
  
"So, Carter actually said she thought I was immature?"  
  
Daniel gives me a sideways look, "Don't tell me that comes as a surprise."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand.  
  
"*Everyone* thinks you're immature, Jack," he laughs.  
  
"Yea, well at least *I* don't throw tantrums like a five year old!" I yell at him. A couple of people turn in their seats but I ignore them.  
  
"I do *not* throw tantrums," Daniel growls.  
  
"No you only start to yell and jump up and down every time you get frustrated. You're right, that isn't a tantrum, what was I thinking?"  
  
The plane takes off and Daniel and I continue our banter. Maybe it won't be such a long flight after all.  
  
"Thinking?" Daniel echoes. "You were actually *thinking*! Mark the calendar."  
  
Oh he is going to get it for that one . . .  
  
The End 


End file.
